On Respecting Singles and Taking My Head Out of the Sand

When the reality hit me that I was indeed about to be newly single in my 50s, after over 25 years of marriage, my first reaction was to bravely stick my head in the sand.

“Ok,” I thought, “this marriage thing didn’t work according to plan. I suppose I will just wait for Mr. Wonderful to fall through my skylight.”

I was not interested in thrusting myself into the dating world, which I hated even when I was a fairly cute and unwrinkled 20 something.

I waited for a while. Curiously, no one crashed spontaneously through my skylight to romance me or even to steal my stuff. This is probably a non-event for which I should be grateful. Mr. Wonderful was not going to fall out of the sky and land on my lap anytime soon. I would have to go on dates if I wanted to find him.

While I will soon be writing about the joys of being newly single and dating in one’s 50s, I am refraining from creating that piece until I figure out how to write it without totally embarrassing my young adult children. There might be some moderate embarrassment though. I'm only human.

Instead, today I am writing about something that is hard to mock. This blog is about how American society simply does not consider singles – divorced, widowed or otherwise. Singles are not necessarily looked down on – we are not even on the radar.

It might actually not be all that funny-- but I will do my best.

When my marriage blew up in a very public and dramatic way, some well meaning family and friends assured me not to worry because I am still attractive and will find someone else.

I appreciate their kindness (and more importantly the much needed external validation that I am still smokin’ hot). I do hope that I will find “someone else” one day. But I suppose I wish the response had been:

“Well this sucks! I love you and hate that you are in pain, but being alone might not be the worst thing in the world. Take some time to heal and figure things out. Being single can be fun too you know. You don’t have to be in a couple to feel cherished.”

Instead I could feel the discomfort that my situation placed on some of my still coupled friends and the pity they felt for my predicament.

A few friends made sympathetic noises, and then immediately distanced themselves from me as if I might have a contagious disease (or perhaps they were concerned I might suddenly start nosing around for their husbands. I have no clue what happened with those few people. One day we were friends and then we were not).

As a working woman who has travelled a lot and attended many late night business dinners where alcohol flowed freely, I have had a number of opportunities to get grabby with someone else’s husband. I was never tempted to do so--even if the guy was attractive and flirting with me. I can assure you I have zero interest in anyone else’s husband. To be honest, I don’t think that cheating is the worst thing you can do to your spouse-- it’s just not my thing.

Some of my friends who are happily married-- and others who are just committed to grinding it out until the kids die-- have told me enough about their relationships for me to wonder why anyone stays in long term marriages. Didn’t we all used to just die after about ten years anyway? Now we live so much longer and we are bound together to endure all kinds of crap until the bitter end, even if our partner becomes unrecognizable to us and we want to punch said partner in the face on a daily basis. It seems almost unnatural to me. However, admittedly I am in sour grapes mode right now so you don’t have to listen to me. I have many friends and family who are quite happily married, in long term marriages. They are devoted, kind and loving to each other. I admire them. To me they are aspirational, and slightly weird. (Kidding about the weird part.)

Circling back, at first I was hurt and surprised at the few friends who distanced themselves from me. I felt like a pathetic loser. Also I suspected maybe they never liked me much to begin with and we were couples friends only. I ruminated on this a bit but I quickly realized for the most part these individuals were superficial acquaintances-- not friends. We had certainly had fun together, but there was no depth to our relationships.

I decided to focus instead on the plethora of loyal and supportive friends and family (single and in couples) who buoyed me and carried me through a horrible time, because I really needed a lot of support, and still do. Also, I was surprised to make new friends and experienced great kindness from acquaintances who became close friends during the time I was in the greatest pain. Imagine, people seeking you out to support you when you are at your lowest! I am forever grateful and lucky to have these friends.

Through my own challenges, I have learned how alienated and lonely our society makes one feel if one is single, by choice or otherwise. It is almost as if a single person is considered as less than or not as special as someone in a couple. The holiday season is nuclear family centric to the point that it feels intentionally cruel. And forget Valentine’s Day! I always thought Valentine’s Day was a somewhat phony, stupid and insensitive marketing holiday anyway-- but the past few years it has become a brutal reminder of my “less than” status in our culture.

One thing I have often said about getting divorced as a not yet old but not young woman, is that I am just getting a head start on widowhood. If we are not in a same sex relationship, women typically outlive our male mates and often end up living alone for a very long time if we don’t re-marry. My grandmother outlived my grandfather for well over 20 years. Interestingly, even though she was an adorable hottie in her 70s, and the farthest thing from a feminist, she never wanted to date or re-marry. She said she loved my grandfather deeply and had no interest in ever taking care of any other sick old men. She had been a caregiver to everyone, and I think she was just over it. So, here I am, feeling a bit like an early widow. Maybe I am not so unusual.

I don’t mean to be flippant. Losing a spouse or partner (through death or divorce) is a horrible, painful thing to experience. It’s just that now I realize how much our cultural prejudices flame the pain of this loss. Instead of reassuring a single person (newly or otherwise) that they are equal to persons in a couple and have the same status and standing, the coupled world closes ranks-- in the fake world of advertising and in real actions --to remind singles that we are alone. Perhaps we are in this "undesirable" state because we are not as special and exceptional as the coupled people around us. Perhaps we are simply not worthy of being cherished and adored.

Of course this is ridiculous. We all know couples who are limping along in terrible marriages and who disparage each other. Enduring emotional dysfunction or actual abuse is an awful state to be in – being single is not.

It is the human condition (or our cultural conditioning) to want to have at least one loyal ally who has our back and loves us unconditionally even when we wear old sweatpants to bed, who will listen with eternal patience when we complain and repeat the same story until their heads are exploding, and who will gently wipe the drool from our face when we are nodding off in the nursing home. But who says we can’t also rely on a network of friends and family to provide this love and support even if we do not end up with that one select partner?

In Japan, older single women live in some wonderful communes where they have private space and also care for each other collectively – they cook for each other and do chores together. They seem very happy and not lonely.

To speak on behalf of female humans, because I cannot speak for men: we do need support and love. We don’t want to be lonely. We want to know someone will be there for us when we are old and frail and no longer can be the caregivers, but are vulnerable and need to be cared for. As caregivers, the idea that we will need to be cared for is a scary thought. Who can we trust with that responsibility?

But there are alternative relationships and communities where women who were always the caregivers can be treated with love and respect and might even be better off-- rather than being saddled with an equally old and decrepit partner who has metal hips and can barely care for him or herself --or is too feeble or grouchy to help much anyway.

I suppose that sounds bleak. I have been told to end on a high note.

I believe that what goes around comes around. If you are a loving person, then love will enfold you. Sometimes that love will come from unexpected places. Being single doesn’t mean you are alone or will end up alone and lonely -- just like being part of a couple does not mean you are never lonely and will never be alone.

Again I think of my grandmother who opted to remain single from her 70s until she died in her 90s. She was a loving caregiver and beloved by all who knew her. She remained independent and lived in her own home into her 90s. Her family cared for her and loved her. She was single for a long time, but she was not alone and was always cherished.

Namaste!